Its late at night, I've been up editing videos for hours, I'm quickly loosing my mind, a friendly figure offers me a beer, coffee is what I really need, I don't even drink coffee, but he insists, I have the beer with this generous figure, in hindsight I should have noticed that this was no merry hippy, the mask alone should have been my first clue, but we clinked our glasses (like the vikings used to do to show they didn't poison each others glass) so I figured he was trust worthy. Thats The last thing I figured.

All I know from then on is everything was a blur, everything that happened after that first sip seemed to fuse into one moment, like those old cameras when you forget to wind up a new photo and you end up with two pictures faded onto each other. You know the ones, those shitty old cameras that hipsters use these days. Anyway, enough camera talk, I couldn't remember anything, thats all that matters.

I don't know how I got to bed, maybe he kindly took me and gently tucked me in, hopefully not, hopefully hes a she to be honest, cause I'm just assuming a chick wouldn't have drugged me, but I can't remember shit, so maybe it was a chick, and maybe she had a crush on me and shes a super model and, ok wait, back to the story, where was I, a masked 'it' drugged me, everything went blurry, I ended up in bed, alone I think, then I started dreaming...

I started dreaming that I was at the beach, the waves were perfect, I was getting barrels, I was getting barrels and doing airs, ostriches were falling, I was doing flips off piers, I was wandering around a baron place, the moon was too big and the clouds went backwards. But thats not even the wierd part, no no no, not even close, the truely wierd part is that I have never surfed, I'm not even a surfer, and yet I could feel the energy, I could feel the muscle movement, I could see the waves and how they broke, I suddenly understood the lingo, "Oy bra, sick tube mate." "That was a bomb bru, but you stuffed it cause you're a kook, the next nugget is mine!"
Mmmmm, I could smell it, that nugget, what I would give to eat a nice, juicy chicken nugget right now, that would cure these wierd dreams and this hangover.

Boom! I was awake, the thought of a nugget had me salivating and twitching with desire, I didn't care that I was a video editer living in his moms house making no money and I didn't care that I had been drugged by an 'it'. I didn't care that I had learned to surf over night, all of that meant nothing, nothing at all, because, burried deep in the back of the fridge, there was a leftover nugget, and by golly if I didn't get to it before anyone else I was fully prepared... to go back to sleep.